Simply Live
by kyrdwyn
Summary: How one woman survives


Simply Live - by kyrdwyn  
  
Rated: G  
  
Summary: How one woman survives  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~  
  
"I do love you, you know."  
  
I paused, my hand hovering over the saucepan on the stove. In the twelve years we'd been married and separated, he'd said those words to me a handful of times. Meaningful times, not offhand like this, and not since we'd separated.  
  
Turning, I faced my husband. He was standing in front of the picture of the two of us on our wedding day. I just watched him as he sipped at his wine. He looked at me, as I stood there, stunned.  
  
"What brought this on?"  
  
He came around the bar into the kitchen, frowning. "Do I need a reason?" he asked quietly.  
  
I shook my head, "No. You just…." I shrugged. I'd been surprised to see him waiting on my porch tonight when I'd gotten home from work, but he did that often enough that I wasn't un-used to it. However this simple statement was out of the blue, even for him.  
  
"I never say it to you, I know."  
  
I turned back to the stove, trying not to let my tears run. I couldn't let him see how much his words affected me. At forty-two, I was still a hopeless romantic and hopelessly in love with the man I had married. A man who apparently still loved me, but hadn't lived with me or slept with me in ten years.  
  
"Hey…" He must have noticed something because he came to stand next to me. "You alright?"  
  
I shook my head. I wanted him to put his arms around me, hold me and let my cry against him. But he didn't and he wouldn't. He never had held me when I wanted to be held, outside of our bed. God, that should have warned me our marriage wasn't going to be what I had hoped. I should have stayed in Los Angeles, not come out here and married him. But love…well, I was and still am in love.  
  
He reached around me to turn off the stove. I protested that dinner would be ruined, but he merely moved the pan off the burner. "I'm not worried about dinner, I'm worried about you."  
  
"Since when?"  
  
Startled, he simply stared at me.  
  
"Since when have you worried about me? You never call, you stop by based on some mathematical calculation that I can't figure out, and then you tell me you love me out of the blue. I should have asked for a divorce years ago, because I can't live like this. But I haven't, because I couldn't live like that either."  
  
I walked away from him, out of my kitchen and into my bedroom. A bedroom he had never shared with me. As I had never shared his bedroom. When we separated, we got rid of the marital home and got our own places. It wasn't three months before he appeared on my porch, and the pattern of dinner and discussion was established on a rather infrequent basis. Yet I had never been to his new home.  
  
I heard him in the doorway behind me as I stood, one hand resting on the footboard of the bed we had shared together. I'd never been able to get rid of it. I didn't turn to face him. I knew he would have that maddening expression on his face, studying me like I was something he needed to classify into genus and phylum.  
  
"What do you want from me, Kate?"  
  
I bowed my head. He didn't understand. I wanted what I had always wanted from him - a life, a marriage, a family. It was too late for children for us, but not too late for the others. I'd told him that once, and he'd looked panicked - or as close to that expression as he gets. That night had been the last night that I'd seen him for several months, and when he'd returned, neither of us had mentioned it.  
  
"What I want from you, Gil, is something you're not willing to give. So, please, just…go."  
  
"For tonight or for forever?"  
  
I had to turn around then, had to see his face, look at those eyes, and see if he was relieved by my words or worried. All I saw was that damn façade he always wears to hide himself from people.  
  
"I don't know," I answered simply. Truthfully.  
  
He nodded. He walked forward and gently kissed me on the forehead. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Just go," I whispered, losing my battle with my tears. That one kiss had undone me. He nodded again, turned, and left. I sank to the floor, crying. I can't live with him. I can't live without him. I can't live in this limbo hell.  
  
Sometimes, it takes too much effort to simply live. 


End file.
